


Clay and Cast Iron

by iaintafraidofnoghostbear, tampa_bae_frightening (steven_damnkos)



Series: Clay and Cast Iron [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Chronic Illness, Crossdressing, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaintafraidofnoghostbear/pseuds/iaintafraidofnoghostbear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/steven_damnkos/pseuds/tampa_bae_frightening
Summary: 214-Respectable young man of good standing, 20 years old, desires the acquaintance of an honest, hard working farmer. Object: matrimony.





	Clay and Cast Iron

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings for: Past/referenced ableism

Nolan sighs, watching the sun set through his bedroom window. It’s early spring, yet, but he worries about the planting progress all the same. The men he’s hired to run the farm seem capable enough, but - through the course of his life - he’s learned that people are more than willing to take advantage of someone they see as weak. He cringes as he coughs, the rattle in his chest unkindly reminding him of his sickliness and he carefully swings his legs up into bed, dragging the blankets over himself and relishing in the warmth. Before he manages to fall asleep, he sends a quiet prayer up that an answer to it and the ad he’d had put out come soon. 

Not two days later, the answer comes in the form of a tall, muscular, but quiet man. His voice is accented as he greets Nolan, hands clutching a battered hat between them, an equally worn travel bag at his feet. 

“You’re here about the ad?” Nolan asks, getting the nod he expected. “Come in. I’m afraid I can’t stand for long.” 

Making his careful way back toward his favorite chaise, Nolan sits with a grateful sigh, rearranging his skirts until he’s more comfortable. He looks over at the man again, glad to see there doesn’t seem to be any disgust or contempt in his expression. “Please, sit. I’m Nolan. Nolan Patrick.” 

“Ivan Provorov. I’m pleased to meet you.” Ivan offers a hand, shaking Nolan’s firmly but gently before settling in another chair nearby. 

“So, tell me about yourself. You know I’m in need of a husband, someone who can help me care for the farm. As you can see, I’m not quite capable of doing it on my own, and it’s hard on me trying to be out there minding the farmhands I’ve hired.” 

Slowly but surely, Ivan explains his experience. He was born overseas, but his family had moved to America when he was young. He’d not been terribly fond of city life and had taken jobs on various farms, but had found the lack of stability - being let go and rehired with the turning of the season - unsatisfying. 

Ivan asks basic questions about the farm, about what else Nolan is looking for. He fidgets with his own cup a little before finally managing to look Nolan in the eye for more than a glance. "I think I can help. I can work a few days, get to know the men and the farm, if you like."

He's the best candidate that's come through so far, and Nolan knows he needs to give Ivan a chance. "You can stay the week, and then we'll make the decision." Nolan takes a minute to sit up, gathering his shawls around him. "If you'll assist me upstairs, I'll show you to your room."

Ivan's steady, helping Nolan up the stairs and waiting patiently when he needs to catch his breath. Nolan shows him to the guest room he'd had prepared, telling him to make himself at home. He has to go lay down for a bit to recoup, all the while hoping he hasn't made a foolish mistake.

* * *

Ivan wonders about the place he’s found himself in. The farm itself is a dream; a touch unkempt in that several fields are yet unplanted and there are repairs that need to be made, but overall there’s a noticeable effort put forth to keep the place in running order. Some of the men are hard workers, dedicated despite the daunting task put to them. Some he already has slated for firing, hoping that his . . . well, his hopefully-soon-to-be-husband will take his advice. 

Nolan himself is lovely, although obviously quite ill and wary of nearly everyone around him. Ivan often finds him reclined on a chaise with thread and needle or knitting in his hands. He’s plagued by a cough that makes Ivan wince, one that only clears when the housekeeper who stops in once a week insists on sending for a doctor. 

Despite his delicate physical state, Nolan listens intently when Ivan explains the state of the farm, the work and repairs he feels need to be done. Ivan’s careful in suggesting that some of the farmhands be let go, but Nolan only nods. He gives Ivan the go ahead, and gives him the contacts of the shops in town Ivan will need to get supplies from. 

Ivan spends his probationary days working and trying not to intrude on Nolan too much. His room is clean and comfortable, the feminine touches of Nolan’s tastes here and there in the gauzy curtains and the hand-stitched coverlet. It’s good work, a comfortable home, and Ivan finds himself praying for a positive outcome when he and Nolan sit down at dinner one stormy afternoon. 

“Shayne said that things are going well,” Nolan says softly. “The men like you, and things are on the right track. I would - I would be much obliged if you would stay.”

It’s a risk, but Ivan reaches out to take Nolan’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I would be honored.” 

Their marriage is a small, quiet affair. To spare Nolan the trip into town, a judge and a priest had come out to take care of the proceedings. Ivan held Nolan by the elbow for their short vows, helping to steady him as best he could. A couple of the farmhands stood as witnesses, offering their best wishes before heading back to work. 

Ivan had to help Nolan back inside, fetching him a cool glass of water when he noticed how flushed Nolan was, but how pale under the flush. 

“Thank you,” Nolan murmurs, shakily taking the glass and sipping on it. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Do you need anything else?” 

“No. I’ll be alright, that was just . . . a bit much for me.” Nolan takes another sip, and offers Ivan a weak smile. “I’ll rest, then I’ll be just fine.” 

Giving Nolan’s hand a squeeze, Ivan goes to fix them dinner. He’d learned that - while Nolan knows how to cook in theory - his body prevents him from doing so. To save them subsiding on only cold sandwiches, Ivan takes up cooking as well. His fare is simple, but filling, recipes he’d learned over the years finally being put to use. The stew he makes for dinner on their wedding night is received with a bright smile, and it puts some healthy color back into Nolan’s face. 

* * *

Slowly but surely, Ivan gets things in proper working order. He'd let a few of the farmhands go, only keeping the ones who were actually doing good work. He had used some those wages to hire a couple of cowmen to work exclusively with the cattle. After the initial spending on repairs, he's saving Nolan money and, frankly, that was the least Nolan had hoped for. He can scarcely make it out to check the fields himself but what he can see seems to be doing well; he just has to trust that Ivan's steady work expands to the actual crops as well.

As the spring turns into summer, the crops are flourishing. Ivan's even started up a little kitchen garden that's doing well, promising fresh vegetables that will soon enough help fill their table and stores. Overall, Nolan is impressed. He still doesn't know much about Ivan, but he's a hard worker, and he doesn't begrudge Nolan his illness.

It’s hard to stay inside when the weather is warm, Nolan finds. Ivan’s often gone before sun up, back after sun down, leaving Nolan to his own devices. He can make it to the porch, settling himself in one of the old wicker chairs, knitting or sewing on the matching table. Still, handcrafts only take up so much of his time, and he finds himself staring out into the fields with more and more regularity. 

“Are you alright?” Ivan asks gently one afternoon. The day had started muggy, and - by noon - dark clouds had formed on the horizon. Ivan and the other man had worked hard and fast to finish as much work as they could before the storm could arrive. Nolan and Ivan had settled in the sun room, watching the rain and lightning, feeling the thunder rattle the house around them, and Nolan had lost himself in thought. 

“I am. I just . . . find it tedious to be inside at all times. My crafts are good work, but doing the same thing day after day wears on me.” 

Ivan nods in acknowledgement, going quiet for long enough that Nolan’s sure he’s just going to let it go. “You could come to the garden with me. I would help you down there, if you’d like.” 

“I - I don’t know.” Nolan nibbles his lip at the thought. It’s appealing, but he worries about how he’ll do in the hot summer sun, and he voices his concern to Ivan. 

“We could do it in the evening, when it’s not so hot. Weeds will keep.” He reaches over to give Nolan’s hand a little pat. “Think on it. It would get you out of the house, at least.” 

Though he’s nervous about it, Nolan takes Ivan up on his offer one evening when Ivan has come in early. He’s put on older, worn clothes for the occasion, and he makes the trip down the steps with no small amount of trepidation. Ivan helps settle him in the grass along the edges of the garden. The evening is warm, but not overly so, and Nolan can reach several of the rows from his spot in the grass. His father would've called pulling weeds child’s work but Ivan's out there, too, carefully thinning carrots and patiently showing Nolan the difference between the creeping vines that are weeds and the ones that make up their pea plants

The sun's low enough Nolan hadn't need his sun hat, and Ivan's given him some work gloves to protect his hands. He finds that he kind of likes getting to care for the plants, making sure they'll grow and thrive so he and Ivan can eat. He wasn’t sure he'd be able to do it; being ill so often has really sapped his belief that he can do much if anything at all and he kind of resents that feeling now that he’s out here.

Helping to tend the garden periodically seems to bolster their confidence in Nolan’s ability. Ivan believes Nolan is stronger than he thinks he is, but he's still gentle with him at all times. He seems wholeheartedly convinced that getting Nolan to go into town and become familiar with the shops and sights would be good for him.

"I won't be able to walk around that much . . . I'll have to sit near constantly." It's not a big city by any means, but Nolan still worries.

"You don’t have to leave the truck if you're not feeling up to it,” Ivan swears. “Or there are some chairs on the walk in front of the General Store. We've been good patrons lately and I don’t think Mr. Gudas will begrudge you a place to rest."

"If you’re sure, I think that'll be alright,” Nolan agrees; he still feels wary but Ivan is earnest enough. 

They drive into town the next day, shopping lists in hand. A frightened part of Nolan had thought perhaps Ivan would be as embarrassed of him as his father had been, but Ivan helps him from the truck as soon as he’s spoken to the General Store owner and gets him settled in one of the chairs, skirts and all. It's a well made and sturdy rocking chair, surprisingly comfortable on its own, but helped along by the small cushion someone had put on each one. There's a gentle breeze to keep Nolan from getting too hot while Ivan does his business, and it's quite pleasant. 

A few folks stare, but others stop to talk, intrigued by a man they've heard of but basically never seen. Most had heard he was bedridden but that's obviously not true. Too much talk with strangers tires Nolan out quickly, but he's too polite to tell them to leave him alone. He’s grateful to see Ivan return with some of their goods in hand. He stashes them quickly in the truck and comes over to Nolan, bearing a couple bottles of soda. 

"Are you feeling alright? I'm nearly done, I just need to go in here and get a few more things."

Nolan takes the soda from Ivan with a small smile, taking a sip of it. "Just a little tired, but I'll be fine here while you finish up, don't worry."

Ivan pats his hand and heads inside. Nolan drinks his soda, grateful for the cool sweetness of it. He rearranges his skirts a little to allow more air to flow around his legs to help cool him down, but he's not kept waiting long. Ivan helps him up and to the truck, making sure Nolan is comfortably settled before they head for home.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Ivan asks again, glancing at Nolan briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “It wasn’t too much?” 

“It wasn’t. It was . . . a lot more pleasant than I had hoped. Thank you.” Nolan’s face is a little warm, but Ivan’s attention is nice. Town was an interesting experience for sure, and Nolan's grateful that Ivan has such a good relationship with the business owners in town that they would let him sit and rest. Not having to worry about keeping up with Ivan, or leaning on him the whole time had made all the difference. 

They slowly but surely start spending more time together; Ivan can cook and doesn't seem bothered when Nolan takes up residence in a chair at the table with his sewing or embroidery to watch him. Nolan knows how to cook some things in theory from watching his mama and the housemaid he had do it, but he's never been able to stand long enough to make anything himself. Ivan's a fair cook, and sometimes he makes things Nolan's unfamiliar with, but he claims are from his homeland. They're still good, and he likes the change.

From time to time, Ivan will bring him vegetables to peel and chop or bread dough to knead. He always makes sure to help Nolan to put on an apron to protect his clothes, and takes the tasks over without a word on the days that Nolan isn’t feeling well or strong enough to finish them. 

“Everyone underestimates you, and that makes you underestimate yourself,” Ivan says softly and simply, the one time Nolan asks him why he’s so patient, so willing to work with Nolan instead of shunning him for what he can’t do. He leaves Nolan stunned where he sits amid the squash while Ivan carts another pile of weed toward the compost heap. He surreptitiously wipes his eyes before Ivan can see, and turns his attention back to his weeding. 

* * *

Ivan watches Nolan work; he does his best not to stare, not wanting to arouse any suspicion, but he can’t help himself. It had been clear to Ivan that the people in Nolan's life before had just wanted him out of the way, so they hadn't bothered to try to help him work on what he might be capable of. He might never be strong enough to work with cattle or in the fields, but Ivan believed that - with some patience - he'd have a lot more confidence and physical strength to do other things.

Now, there’s a healthier pallor in Nolan’s skin than when they’d first met. He still gets sick more often and more severely than most, and - though no one would call him steady on his feet - Nolan’s steadier than he has been. He can walk a little father before he needs a rest, especially assisted; he can knead a whole batch of bread dough until it’s just right, and the endurance and strength he’s build through cooking and working in the garden shows in his arms. 

Seeing Nolan happy, smiling with pleasure as they take in their first crop of tomatoes and squash from the garden, is well worth it. 

Truthfully, Ivan can’t believe how lucky he’d been in finding Nolan. He's given Ivan a place to live and good, honest work. Ivan even has people he'd hazard calling friends both amid the farmhands and the townsfolk. Plus, Nolan is kind enough once they'd gotten to know each other. 

And he's ... pretty. Which Ivan has kept to himself because - husband though he may be - he's aware that he's much stronger than Nolan and that Nolan relies on him. He wouldn't want to take advantage, but that doesn’t mean he’s blind, either. Nolan has never mentioned anything about...consummating their marriage, and Ivan isn't going to bring it up if it's not on the table, despite finding Nolan very beautiful. He's quite happy with their life as it is now.

“You’re staring,” Nolan says softly, taking a polite sip of his lemonade. 

“You’ve something on your mind,” Ivan returns, smiling despite himself when Nolan blushes and ducks his head. He follows Nolan’s gaze out into the yard, realizing that Nolan has to be looking at the battered and abandoned chicken coop situated across the yard from the garden. “I could fix that up for you.” 

Shaking his head, Nolan demurs. "Don't worry about it, you already have enough on your plate."

Nolan startles a bit when Ivan reaches out to gently hold his hand, flushing pink. "I don't mind. It would be good to have our own chickens for eggs and meat."

The coop is in better shape than Ivan would’ve thought. He picks up wood and new chicken wire on his next trip into town, and works on the coop in his spare time. It comes together quickly, and soon enough he’s got a box full of homely-looking chicks. They’re half in their baby fuzz and half in their adult feathers, but Nolan doesn’t seem to care how they look. 

“Oh, they’re adorable,” he murmurs. “I love them. Thank you.” Gently, Nolan pets their heads before Ivan takes them to get settled in the coop, setting up feeders and water, making sure there’s plenty of bedding to keep them warm. Nolan’s attentive to them, and - after finding his husband sitting in the dirt both inside and outside the coop - Ivan built a rough-hewn bench for Nolan to rest on. He makes a note to get a basket for eggs, watching his husband with a soft smile.

* * *

For a moment, Nolan wants to be upset when Ivan brings up getting him a cane or a wheelchair, but Ivan's gentle, taking his hands and holding them carefully. "You've been doing so well. I hate the thought of you stuck inside just because I'm not home. You should be able to go out whenever you like."

Nolan weighs that, thinking of the garden and especially the chickens. They’re growing fast and, though it will still be some time before they start laying, it would be nice to go out to see them on his own time, instead of having to wait for Ivan to come home. 

"I'll try. I don't - what if I fall and you're not here?" Nolan hates how his voice quivers, but Ivan soothes him immediately. 

"We'll practice while I'm here first. And I can have Shayne come check on you when I'm gone. It'll be alright. And if you decide that you don’t like them, you don’t have to use them. I’ll still help you, always."

The chair has to be special ordered - and expense that stirs even more anxiety in Nolan - but soon enough it’s being unloaded from the back of their truck. It’s made of smooth wood and spoked wheels; an unassuming device for all the nervousness it fills Nolan with. 

Ivan hangs close by the first time Nolan goes out with the chair. They'd settled on it as well as a cane so Nolan could carry things to and from the house if need be. The grass makes it harder to push but also keeps it from just rolling away from Nolan too easily. He's grateful for an easy place to sit once he's made it to the coop, worn out from the trip, but it's nice to have made it on his own. Ivan comes to sit on the bench, watching as Nolan scatters feed for the chickens. 

“I didn’t think I could ever have this,” Nolan says softly, sitting down in his chair. “I never - I don’t remember the last time I went anywhere outside of the house on my own.” He can feel himself choking up, so he leaves it there, grateful that Ivan doesn’t press him to keep talking. 

They stay in the coop a while, Nolan petting the chickens in turn; the one he’s sure is going to be the leader flutters up to sit on his lap and roosts there like a particularly feathery cat. Ivan cleans out the coop, putting more hay inside and making sure there’s plenty of water. Nolan walks behind Ivan to the garden, easing himself down to start to pick tomatoes, nestling them on his lap until Ivan can run up to the house to fetch a basket to carry them back in. 

By the time the sun starts to sink low, and Nolan’s stomach starts to rumble, he’s pleasantly tired and likely a little sunburnt, but it’s been well worth it. He puts the basket on the seat of the chair and makes the trek across the lawn. He feels a little weak by the time he’s made it up the stairs, but Ivan quickly takes the basket inside and helps Nolan across the threshold to the kitchen table. 

They slice up the tomatoes and eat them with salt and a loaf of the crusty bread they’d baked the day before. Nolan finds he can’t stop smiling, and it seems to be infectious. Ivan reaches across the table at a point to give his hand a gentle squeeze. They go to bed early, Nolan brushing out his hair and tying it in a simple braid before crawling into bed. He’s tired enough to fall asleep almost immediately, dreaming of little chicks and a shy smile.   
  
  


* * *

Ivan knows that Nolan worries about money; and who wouldn’t, after being in the precarious position he had been. The farm is doing well, though, and Ivan has started putting money away for them, rebuilding the little nest egg that Nolan had been forced to dip into to pay the farmhands and make repairs. Still, he can’t find it in himself to tell Nolan that taking in mending and hand stitching kerchiefs and scarves to sell is unnecessary. Nolan’s got real skill at it; he’d fixed up all of Ivan’s worn clothes as soon as he’d noticed the first rip in one of Ivan’s work shirts. He brings in a good bit of supplemental income that way, and it soothes some of his worry about their spending. 

Of course, this means that Ivan has to be careful when considering gifts for his husband; gifts that he’s fairly certain would be welcome for the token that they are, but can’t be so high dollar as to overshadow those good feelings with anxiety. So, he bends the ear of Mr. Gudas’ wife on a day he’s brought in some of the pretty kerchiefs Nolan had sent along with him. She listens patiently, a small smile on her face all the while, patting his arm when his rambling finally runs out. 

“A pretty fabric, I think,” she tells him. “For a skirt or blouse.” She laughs a little at Ivan’s surprised look, giving him another pat. “He’s a nice boy. I’m glad he has you; his father wasn’t so kind about his . . . peculiarities.” 

Mr. Gudas arrives then, picking bolts of fabric down from the shelves and allowing Ivan to peruse them until he settles on a soft, light fabric with a delicate floral pattern. The fabric is cut and wrapped in paper to keep it clean until Ivan gets it home. He’s grateful for the thoughtfulness, especially when he buys some of Nolan’s favorite candy on a whim as well. 

Presenting his gifts is nerve wracking, especially when Nolan goes silent for a moment once he’s got the fabric unwrapped. Ivan’s not ready to see tears welling in those pretty blue eyes, but then Nolan is reaching for him, pulling him into a quick hug. “Thank you. This is lovely,” Nolan breathes. 

“You’re welcome. I hope it’s enough for you to make yourself something nice. Mrs. Gudas thought it would be.” 

“Oh, it will. It’s plenty, I - and candy?” Gently sitting the fabric out of harm’s way, Nolan picks up the little bag and opens it, plucking out a single piece and popping it into his mouth. He lets out a happy sigh that makes Ivan flush, grateful that Nolan doesn’t say anything about it. 

After his initial success, holding himself in check is hard, Ivan finds. He and Shayne stumble upon a small patch of wildflowers, late for the season. Shayne gives him no small amount of grief about it, but waits when Ivan stops to pick a simple bouquet of them. They didn’t have flowers around the house - something Ivan tells himself he’ll remember to remedy next year - and he hopes that they’ll be a welcome gift. 

Nolan blushes prettily, eyes wide as he takes the bouquet. “Oh. Ivan they’re beautiful. You got these for me?” 

“Picked them myself.” Ivan doesn’t mean to mumble, but Nolan smiles brilliantly at him anyway. 

“There’s a vase of Mama’s in the hutch, would you fetch it? I don’t want them to wilt.” 

Ivan’s careful bringing the vase back; it feels delicate in his big hands and he knows that the things Nolan keeps in the hutch are some of his most precious belongings. He finds Nolan with a dreamy look on his face, fingers brushing over the delicate leaves and petals of the flowers. Nolan startles a bit, but Ivan pretends he hadn’t seen, going to fill the vase with water. He watches as Nolan arranges the flowers just so, setting them in the middle of the kitchen table. 

It’s a surprise when Nolan reaches for his hand, tugging him to sit; Ivan’s heart races, pounding hard in his chest when Nolan leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. I love them.”

  
  


* * *

If asked, Nolan never would’ve guessed his husband might try to court him. It’s backwards, but sweet and Nolan can’t deny the way his heart flutters when Ivan brings him some small token. The fabric had nearly brought him to tears; it had been a while since anyone had given him something just because, nevermind a gift so thoughtful. Nolan had made the candy last as long as he could, savoring each piece. He’d made himself a nice summer skirt from the fabric, even though summer was quickly winding down; he could always wear it again next year, and seeing Ivan’s appreciation for it had been worth it. 

Never in his life, though, had Nolan received flowers. Flowers were something he’d only read about people getting from their sweethearts in the handful of romance novels his mama had allowed. He wasn’t really sure what to do when Ivan presented him with a bouquet of wildflowers other than to thank him breathlessly and put them in a nice vase on the kitchen table where he could admire them. 

Nolan finds he likes the courting quite a bit. His husband is handsome and kind and doesn't mind Nolan's oddities and frailness. Truthfully, Ivan has been the best thing to ever happen to Nolan in quite some time - possibly ever. He's changed things for Nolan and on the farm very much for the better, and now he's doing his best to woo Nolan as well. 

Nolan's giddy the first time they hold hands while sitting on the porch swing. He's never gotten to date before but he can’t imagine anyone being sweeter or more thoughtful than Ivan. Everyone always thought he'd be too sick to date, but Ivan's proved them wrong about that, just like everything else. His hand is large and strong, roughened from hard work, but he's blushing just as much as Nolan is, careful not to hold his hand too tight.

They're sitting like that one night, watching a storm roll by to the south when Ivan sighs softly and gives Nolan's hand a squeeze. "I love you. I hope that's alright."

Nolan turns to look at Ivan, a small smile on his face. "Quite alright, actually. I love you, too."

Being kissed is quite different than he thought it would be. Ivan's beard is a little prickly, but his mouth is soft and as gentle as the rest of him. Nolan rests his head on Ivan's shoulder after, feeling warm and happy as they swing.

Nolan can hear the thunder off in the distance, and sitting there with Ivan is the best place in the world.


End file.
